Cupid Gone Crazy
by BaBe-WiTh-BiTe
Summary: Neville is forced to swallow his own potion, sprouts wings and believes he is cupid. The games have begun! Perfect Match a la Longbottom! Aahhhh let the good times roll. Please welcome out contestants today – Crabbe/Goyle! Slash in this chap R/R luv u a
1. down the rabbit hole

!WARNING! if you choose to read on – you will be subjecting yourself to an extreme !silly!fic! and the author will take no responsibility for any damages that may occur. 

Disclaimer – I do not, cannot, and shall NEVER own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in the following story.  

Pairings – hey that's a mystery you will just have to find out for yourselves. A slight warning though- there may be some slash but nothing too big, o and yes offcourse there is gonna be loooaaaddss and looooaaddss of mush, slush and sap (what do you expect with a title like that?) as well as some humour (my special brand hope ya like it)

Rating – ERRM this is always the hard part . . .id venture a Pg13 poooosibly an R, but ill warn you if that happens

A/N – my loverly beta (MISS ALEXANDRA POGORELOVA GIVE HER A HAND EVERY1) is unfortunately run off her feet with work, so if you want updates, try and ignore the mistakes.    

A/N2 – if you read pleaaaasssee review! =) thankee kindly  

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**~Cupid Gone Crazy~**

The potions class that day was uneasy, they all sat straight in their chairs, facing the board, their eyes darting suspiciously around the room, looking for someone to blame, some weak students fainting from the pressure. All with the same fear in their hearts. You see this particular class was the 7th year combined Slytherin/Gryffindor Potions class. *The* most feared class in the history of Hogwarts. Why, You ask? Well, because this class had one very *special* student: The one, the only Neville Longbottom. At this point you might be slightly confused, and I quite understand. Why was today anything special? Why were the girls and boys of 7th year Potions so very anxious? Well today something never seem before was about to occur, possibly a miracle, definitely something to write home about. 

It was nearly the end of class. And Neville had not made *one* mistake. In fact he had been one of the best behaved, most competent students that class had ever seen. 

It was unnatural.

It was unheard of.

It was downright scary.

I suppose that's why it all had to go so terribly wrong. Some cosmic Law Of The Universe - _And it was etched in stone forever more - Neville Longbottom Shalt Not Succeed. _

Poor Neville.

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Neville sat nervously in his desk, occasionally wiping sweaty palms on his robes. His grandmother said he had a problem dealing with pressure; he just couldn't handle it in any way, shape or form. She was right. Neville valiantly fought the urge to flee, every impulse in his tubby body urging him to duck and cover because this semblance of peace couldn't last for long, people always say, when it rains it pours and this was true a thousand times over for poor Neville, and this was definitely to good to be true. But do not delude yourself, Neville stayed seated that day not for any reason of pride or courage, quite the opposite actually, Neville attempted to stay as still and quiet as a stone, a vain attempt to avoid the wrath of one Severus Snape, potions master extraordinaire.

You see Neville had discovered something many years ago, something essential to his survival to this point and hopefully long after. 

The rare and elusive Snapernicus Potionaire was an ancient and mysterious creature, distantly related to the Majestic King of the Dinosaurs, T-Rex. The signs were all there to see, the malicious glint in the dark eyes, the uncanny ability to sniff out prey (as well as lies and late homework) and finally the little known fact that the vision of both species was movement sensitive, meaning that they could not see prey if it remained absolutely still. 

Yes, Neville congratulated himself, his plan was truly ingenious. Staying still meant staying un-detected. With the help of his own proactive sense of self preservation (a necessity to all bumbling buffoons and tragically coordination impaired among us) and the fact that he had watched Jurassic Park 22 ½  times an once in slow rewind, he had helped people like himself throughout the school and the years to come.

And his plan worked perfectly . . . for most of the class. Until the pressure finally got to him. He cracked. Unlikely as it may seem, his doom came in the form of a carelessly placed pencil. And Life would never be the same again.

As if in slow motion, every head in the room turned, drawn by some sixth sense, in time to see The Pencil of Destruction and Doom (as it would later become known) fell towards the cold stone flaw, revolving and descending as if the very air had become thick as honey, vainly trying to grasp the fallen pencil, to halt its disastrous descent. The classic accompaniment to such a profound moment is a long agonised NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! And Mr. Neville Longbottom did a very good rendition that day, so convincing in fact, so pain filled and  . . .well, so very loud, that people in London were seen to wince uncontrollably for no apparent reason.

The pencil landed with a feather light touch. But the echoes of that barely perceived clatter echoed in the silence, it is said, for days to come, as the echoes of that day would echo on throughout history and all the future, causing Longbottoms everywhere, everytime to run and hide in sympathy.  

Poor Neville.

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Snape's Head whipped around, black eyes focusing instantly on the infidel who dared to disturb his class. 

**"LOOONNNGGGBOTTOM!** GET UP HERE! NOW!"

As the class shuddered in commiseration, Neville rose slowly from his desk and, like a man condemned faced with his own doom, trudged to the front of the class, turning to face the rest of his class with a respectful squeak of "MEEP! Sir. MEEP!". Neville had the unfortunate tendency to sound like a distressed mouse when talking to Snape.

The class watched, fascinated, as Snape's face turned a previously unknown shade of purple (known forever more as Murderous Potions Master Purple – all the rage in Paris) and his mouth opened and closed, apparently stunned, at a loss for words. But not for long.       

Poor Neville.

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**"I WILL NOT HAVE THAT KIND OF DISRESPECTFUL BEHAVIOUR IN *MY* CLASS YOUNG MAN!"** At every word, Neville seemed to shrink, to sink down into the floor, leaving a hopelessly enthralled class to strain their necks in order to peer over the teacher's desk (Personal injury? Phhh! They would bill Neville for the chiropractor's bill later. Anything in the name of education.) 

"Euh!  . . .S-Sorry S-Sir! (damn that s-s-s-stutter)" Screwing his eyes tight closed, Neville repeated the frantic mantra – _He *cannot* kill me. He *cannot* kill me. HE *CANNOT* KILL ME! – _

Sighing with what little patience a long suffering, celibate, potions master can have, Snape reminded himself that – _He *could not* kill the boy. He *could not* kill the boy. HE *COULD NOT* KILL THE BOY, GODS DAMN IT! – _

Smiling evilly, Snape contented himself with a – 

"Detention, Mr. Longbottom. A *lot* of detention. Enough *detention* to keep you occupied for the rest of your doubtfully long life." 

- Though he was uncertain if that was more a punishment for himself than for Longbottom, it was the least he could do.

Before Neville, or the rest of the class could heave an enormous collective sigh of relief, Snape continued with unfeigned and completely unhidden malicious glee – 

"But for *now* Longbottom, how 'bout you complete the potion written on the board. If you please. The most incredibly difficult, amazingly complex and mind bogglingly dangerous potion ever created called, as you would no doubt know Mr. Longbottom . . . . . _Love Potion No. 9 _. . ."   ****

When the class simply sat in stupefied silence, Snape roared "**_NOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW" _**and people all over the world winced for the second time that day, the people trapped in that dungeon-cum-classroom unanimously deciding now would be a good time for a little of that _Invisible Potion_ they had learnt the previous lesson, or even better that Transportation charm they had all studied for weeks last semester. Unfortunately, no one *ever* payed attention to completely unnecessary things like class at Hogwarts, well they never had before today, so they were all doomed to the kindness (or was it fickleness?) of fate and the remarkably unsuitable, amazingly deficient talents of Neville Longbottom.  

Poor Neville.

 . . . . . . . . . POOR CLASS!

****

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*cue spooky lighting* 

MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (yes that is my pitiful attempt at an evil laugh)

Can You Say Cliff Hanger?  . . . I can =D

If you want to find out exactly what monstrous mistake Nevil manages to make *this* time REVIEW! It is my ambrosia and reviewers are all gods in my book. They may even get personal updates . . if they ask nicely =D 

Stay tuned for the next instalment of . . . . .CUPID GONE CRAZY

Hmmmm I think a little A/N would be nice right about  . . here . . .I'm 13, from Australia and ive been writing this and other thing all day., so check out my other stuff and I also write as miss_mighty_Aphrodite. Ciao bella (or beau)(yes I no that's French*rolls eyes*)

Ooo and hey im um . . trilingual . . yeah that's it . . . .that would be English (you tell me if im any good, I hope so, it is my first language), Japanese – 7yrs and im still not that good lol and french – only one year and I dropped that sucker faster than you can say Ooh la la! So yeah not very good there. But ne way .  . . .                  

THANX MUCHLY!!!

Oh and btw if you save your stories in .html format – tall your formatting tends to stay there ie. Bolds, italics, centred, etc. just thought id mention that.


	2. DRINK ME

!WARNING! if you choose to read on – you will be subjecting yourself to an extreme !silly!fic! and the author will take no responsibility for any damages that may occur. 

Disclaimer – I do not, cannot, and shall NEVER own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in the following story.  

Pairings – hey that's a mystery you will just have to find out for yourselves. A slight warning though- there may be some slash but nothing too big, o and yes offcourse there is gonna be loooaaaddss and looooaaddss of mush, slush and sap (what do you expect with a title like that?) as well as some humour (my special brand hope ya like it)

Rating – ERRM this is always the hard part . . .id venture a Pg13 poooosibly an R, but ill warn you if that happens

A/N – my loverly beta (MISS LEXY POGO-stick GIVE HER A HAND EVERY1) is unfortunately run off her feet with work, so if you want updates, try and ignore the mistakes.    

A/N2 – if you read pleaaaasssee review! =) thankee kindly  

Thanx 2 – Michelle Palmer, Ivory Tower and Miss Marauder who all reviewed my first chapter.

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**~Cupid Gone Crazy~**

 . . . . "But for *now* Longbottom, how 'bout you complete the potion written on the board, if you please. The most incredibly difficult, amazingly complex and mind bogglingly dangerous potion ever created called, as you would no doubt know Mr. Longbottom . . . . . Love Potion No. 9 . . ." . . . .

From Neville's point of view, (the point of view of a cowering, vertically challenged 7th year student in Potions Class – or – an inch from the floor (for those of you yet to witness such a spectacle)), Snape looked like a giant - a very angry, very powerful . . . very *tall* giant – and who was he to argue with a giant, *any* kind of giant. And so obligingly, stuttering and shaking the whole time, Nevil began to gather the ingredients listed on the dusty blackboard.

 . . . . Eye of newt and wing of bat, tongue of dog and tail of cat . . . .

Now that seemed rather familiar somehow.(hmmmm de ja vu! Double double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble – stereotypical trash . . . doenst matter if its true) Animal parts – rather squiky animal parts -  not exactly *modern* potions ingredients, no sodium hydroxide here, not even paprika . . . very unusual . . . but then, Nevil supposed (as Nevil *never* should*) that love potions *were* some of the most ancient potions and spells, so they were allowed to be a little outdated.

After the obligatory Odds and Ends and Bits and Pieces were added, the potion was shaping up to be rather . . . *unusual*, even by magical standards. It fizzled and popped, it belched and hiccuped (a little too realistic for Neville's tastes . . . but where did it say that a potion couldn't display terrifyingly humanoid characteristics), it swirled and whirled, a mesmerising mix of rainbow colours . . . and, as always when you mix a rainbow of colours, the resulting potion was one helluva horrible, sickly, muddy brown colour . . . awfully appetising wouldn't you say?

Neville scrambled frenziedly for the crushed nightshade (hang on a sec isn't that poison . . .oh oooh), blindly grabbing a fistful of dried flowers and adding it to the simmering monstrosity. As the class watched on in horrified fascination, they realised that Neville really needed to look at what he was grabbing in the future because they had the sneaking suspicion that a combined handful of dried forget-me-nots and baby's breath petals would cause a decidedly *different* reaction in a potion that called for nightshade. A delightful mixture of doomed terror and terrified disbelief dawned across the faces of the students who were there to witness Neville's Great Mistake that day.

Poor Neville.       

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His hand shaking and trembling uncontrollably, Neville finished combining the ingredients. Taking a moment to look out over the class and possibly say a final farewell to his classmates, Neville saw every single person making some strange movement, trying to wave their arms around frantically while escaping Snape's notice or desperately miming drinking motions then drawing one finger across their throats, their eyes rolling back in their heads and their tongues lolling out of their mouths. Sadly, Neville had never been good at charades and so taking a deep (possibly last) breath, Neville reached for a glass and poured a small amount. Well at least the glass didn't melt or anything . . . maybe the potion was saving itself to inflict more damage later, unfortunately later it would be in Neville's bladder . . . 

With never before seen courage (and stupidity) Neville Longbottom downed the glass of strange potion, his throat working and contracting, his Adam's Apple bobbing as the slimy concoction slid down his oesophagus and entered the wonderful world of Neville's Digestive System!

At the very same moment, Professor Severus Snape returned from his store room, where he had retreated as soon as Neville had begun to put together the potion, and saw the very same boy *drinking* that potion. The potion that was supposed to be used as a salve. THE HIGHLY POISONOUS POTION!

"LOOOOOOOONNNGGGBOOTTTTOOOOOOOM!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! YOU DON'T DRINK IT YOU IMBECILE!!!!!!!"

Poor (dead?) Neville     

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Once more that day, Slow Motion seemed to take over and the glass fell, light glinting off it as it slowly toppled to the stone floor, there to shatter into a million pieces, an almost musical tinkle that was the death scream of all magical glassware (who'd a thunk it) seeming to fill the classroom. But all this was instantly forgotten in the face of what happened next.

Neville simply stood there for a moment before his eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the floor to lie like a child's play thing, forgotten rag doll, silent and still without anyone to animate it. The silence was absolute and shocking, before all hell broke loose.

"What the . . ."

_"Is he . . ."_

_"Should we . . ."_

**"SIIIIIIIIILENCE! GET THIS BOY TO THE HOSPITAL WING! YESTERDAY!"**

Snape's almighty roar had the desired affect and five students scrambled forward over desks and chairs (and other students) to help their fallen comrade, one running to supposedly inform Madame Pomfry of Neville's imminent arrival, but in reality running all over the school shouting – 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH NEVILLE'S DEEEEAAAADDD HEEE'S DEEAAAAAAAAADDDD" 

- and insuring a nice crowd had built by the time the other four boys arrived at the hospital wing carrying Neville with them. 

Poor Neville – he never liked crowds.

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Neville remained silent and still, paler than the pristine white linens as all the people gathered gradually drifted away in search of more entertaining pastimes. Only Snape and Madame Pomfry remained, whispering confidentially to each other as they watched over Neville's unmoving (but thankfully ALIVE – if not necessarily well) body.

"Professor, You must tell me what this boy has ingested! This is a matter of LIFE AND DEATH!" Madame Pomfry most resembled a mother hen, her feathers ruffled and the fox sneaking around after her chicks.

"MADAME! ENOUGH! I would tell you if I *could*. That is the very problem! He made so many damn mistakes that we cannot know what the resulting potion could have done when ingested, and because we do not know exactly what was in the potion, we cannot know how to concoct the antidote!"

"Oh deaaar Professor! You really have *no* idea what the poor boy used? Oh dear oh dear oh dear we MUST inform Dumbledore *immediately*!"

"Unfortunately Madame, the headmaster is away in the wilds of India, he is completely unreachable and will not return for at least a week. Luckily my students inform me that Longbottom did not include the nightshade, so I feel it is safe to say we should be able to keep him alive until the headmaster can return. I hope. The only question *is*, with all the strange ingredients he used, what kind of potion has Longbottom invented? And what strange effects will if have . . . .?"

If only they knew.

Poor Neville.

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TBC!!!!!

A/N heh dw the next chapter *is* coming I promise

- because im on summer holidays I will probably be able to update at least one of my stories every day or two.

I really like this story – what do u think? . . hmmmm . . I wonder what's going to happen . . .__


	3. curiouser and curiouser

!WARNING! if you choose to read on – you will be subjecting yourself to an extreme !silly!fic! and the author will take no responsibility for any damages that may occur. 

Disclaimer – I do not, cannot, and shall NEVER own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in the following story.

Pairings – hey that's a mystery you will just have to find out for yourselves. A slight warning though- there may be some slash but nothing too big, o and yes offcourse there is gonna be loooaaaddss and looooaaddss of mush, slush and sap (what do you expect with a title like that?) as well as some humour (my special brand hope ya like it)

Rating – ERRM this is always the hard part . . .id venture a Pg13 poooosibly an R, but ill warn you if that happens

A/N – my loverly beta (MISS LEXY POGO-stick GIVE HER A CLAP EVERY1) is unfortunately run off her feet with work, so if you want updates, try and ignore the mistakes.

A/N2 – if you read pleaaaasssee review! =) thankee kindly

Thanx 2 – Michelle Palmer, Ivory Tower and Miss Marauder who all reviewed my first chapter. And j.ahots and Miss Marauder once again who both reviewed my second chapter. =D MERRY CHRISTMAS 

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**~Cupid Gone Crazy~**

The first stirrings came at midnight that night. Like a flower unfolding its petals to greet the morning sun (though really . . . there was no sun. it was midnight. Duh), Neville's large eyes slowly blinked open, his arms stretching wide and his mouth even wider in one of the largest yawns ever known. Now, as we all know, mothers have a six sense when it comes to their children, they *always* know when little children are up and about sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night (much to our dismay) and Madame Pomfry was substitute mother to hundreds of children, her Mysterious Mothering Senses were very well developed. She was at the bedside before Neville could even what he was doing in the hospital wing, cup of tea in hand, fluffing pillows and doing other caring, thoughtful things (awww). 

"DEAR! Your awake, fabulous. Now. Time for a bath. We'll have you right as rain again soon. Though we really don't know what's wrong with you . . . ."

Does anyone *really* know the healing properties of a good bubble bath? The scientists are still researching. A whole lot of intense, in person research. Very relaxed research.

Neville was unceremoniously hustled out of bed, into the waiting hot tub (ahh the wonders of modern magic), still stuttering half begun questions –

"What am I doing here?" Neville looked curiously around at the room, lots of white, white everywhere in fact . . .now *that* seemed familiar somehow. 

"shhhhhh dear it's aaalright now, your safe." Madame Pomfry fussed around him, making sure the water was hot and saying a nifty little charm that caused mountains of frothy pink bubbles to appear from thin air. 

Looking slightly scared Neville amended "Where *is* here????"

Madame Pomfry only chuckled to herself and added a kindly - "Enjoy your bath dear!" - over her shoulder . . . she didn't hear the last confused question . . . 

"who am I?

Poor . . . umm . . . who is he again?

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He lay still in the luke-warm water, contemplating the amazing revelation that long exposure to warm water caused ones skin to wrinkle like an old prune. Very interesting. (When you can't remember a damn thing, I suppose everything seems Ripley's Believe It Or Not worthy). While starring bemusedly at his now dried-fruitesque fingers, he noticed a strange shimmering glow that seemed to eminate from his damp skin, perhaps a strange side effect of the marvellous bubbles (not very likely). Splashing the few remaining pink bubbles back and forth, he concentrated on the glow and felt a strange feeling building somewhere deep inside himself.

At first it seemed like pleasant warmth, tingling, comforting and oh-so-very-nice. 

Then it became slightly uncomfortable, a little too hot, the tingling turning into little pin pricks of feeling.

And then, then! He felt like he was burning up from the inside out, his blood turned to lava, melting everything inside him until he was boiling goo, liquefying his bones and turning his organs to ash. And let me tell you! Liquefied bones is nothing to laugh at, organs of ash is *not* fun! 

The pain was phenomenal. Burning, poisoned daggers stabbing every inch of him, it felt like two *things* were trying to rip him apart, trying to pull his spine out through a gaping wound between his shoulder blades. He shuddered and convulsed, his mouth open in a silent scream as the bath water sloshed over the sides to create a small lake on the surrounding stone. With his body curled into the foetal position, his concentration turned inwards, cataloguing the changes, his mind burning with new knowledge, new memories . . . new power.

Half an hour later, Madame Pomfry would return to find herself missing one patient, left with only cold bathwater soaking into the ancient stones, tinted pink with blood (euh), bubbles and . . . dye from a single paper heart?

Poor Neville was no more.

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Professor McGonagall stood straight and tall at the head table of the Great Hall, her spectacles fogging with a little unpredicted mist and her hands shaking slightly (unnoticeable to the many students gathered before her). As deputy head of the school, the professor was forced to make the grim announcement because Dumbledore was A.W.O.L. She would miss Longbottom but did he really have to be as insensitive as to die when Dumbledore was unreachable? Anyway. She had work to do.

"Girls and Boys, today it is my sad duty to inform you that the well loved Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom spontaneously combusted today as the result of the unforseen consequences of drinking one of his own potions. He will be greatly missed. Please remain calm, you will be informed of when the memorial service is to take place."

McGonagall fled the hall (in a stately and graceful manner) to the whisperings and mutterings of the girls and boys of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the face of his interesting death, the old Neville seemed to have disappeared, replaced by some perfect, wonderful student . . . with the same name (ahhh alien clones).

_"He was the best of us . . ."_

And all the many mistakes of 17 years of bumbling buffoonery swept under the rug in one magnanimous sweep. (Should Neville have been pleased or outraged? 17 years is a lot of work.) 

_"So very brave . . ." _

No one even dared to mention the Great Pudding Incident of 2004 (*shudders*) of which we shall never speak of again!

_"What shall we do without him? . . ."_

For . . . what exactly . . . 

And all the while they were fondly reminiscing, no one notice the pair or sparkling blue eyes watching mischievously from the rafters, no one noticed as a single white feather drifted slowly from the heavens (AKA the roof of the great hall).

Poor Neville was no more . . . . . 

But something was waiting in the shadows.

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TBC . . .

ok that was a little scary, I think I had a flash back to The Fly (has anyone seen that movie? Gah!)

ne way – no more scaryness . . .plenty of delightfully mushy chapters to come though featuring Neville gone mad and many mysterious pairings.

Stay tuned for the next exiting instalment of . . . Cupid Gone Crazy


	4. Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee

!WARNING! if you choose to read on – you will be subjecting yourself to an extreme !silly!fic! and the author will take no responsibility for any damages that may occur. 

Disclaimer – I do not, cannot, and shall NEVER own Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in the following story.  

Pairings – hey that's a mystery you will just have to find out for yourselves. A slight warning though- there may be some slash but nothing too big, o and yes offcourse there is gonna be loooaaaddss and looooaaddss of mush, slush and sap (what do you expect with a title like that?) as well as some humour (my special brand hope ya like it)

Rating – ERRM this is always the hard part . . .id venture a Pg13

A/N – as always if you read pleaaaasssee review! =) thankee kindly. Oh and don't ask me bout the Alice in Wonderland thing – im crazy, you should know that by now tsk tsk. – and a resounding YES! I feminised Crabbe!!! Woop! And we have Goyle I think he's in Alfa-Male mode. That or he's just a Neanderthal - but that's not such a great achievement is it? =P enjoy.  

Thanx 2 – Shadow mouse, jessiCA, Anrion (woop genious lmao - evil genius? Mad Evil Genius? I think that's a little more me =P), Werd, AmZ(who I loooove because she reviews my other story too =D thanx sweetie), puffy_girl and Loki (heh ur sweet *blush*) =D MERRY CHRISTMAS

Special Thanks go to – LvlySenbei my beta – shes hardworking and brillient. Thanks hon. Oh and also to a writer no one here probably knows – the genius, the godess of all fanfic – Hergerbabe. She doesn't write HP fic but she is a mistress of slash. Ne way she inspired my to finish this off so you can thank her (if you like it) or alternately curse the day she was born (if you've gotten this far and ur still complaining =P) though I would rather the former.  

Btw - my other fics at the mo. A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words (finished) and Twists of Fate (started). I tend to write angstiness so if you want more sillyness write me a challenge and your wish is my command.  

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**~Cupid Gone Crazy~**

Look! Up in the sky! Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it's . . . Cupid? . . . wait a sec . . .

"NEVILLE??!?!?!?"

Floating lazily in an updraft, the creature spread its little white wings and giggled – madly.  Pudgy and half-naked, he was a sight to behold in white satin boxers with enchanted hearts that giggled along with him. If you didn't notice the malicious glee twinkling in the baby blues or the razor sharp arrows strapped between his wings, you could almost believe that he was just a slightly odd, but surely innocent, winged adolescent (hey, students of _Hogwarts_ here! They're looong desensitised to all things weird and wacky). Besides, it was _Neville_! He wouldn't hurt a fly, or more importantly all of them – who cared about a fly. (Heh. It's nice to know they're still optimistic but really - don't underestimate the guy with the arrows - bad move.).           

. . . and the entire student populace trembled in fear.

Poor Neville was no more. 

But Cupid had come to town  - and he was ready to play. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In a flurry of wings, Cupid zoomed off, ricocheting off walls in his excitement (complete with those satisfying _Pinging_ noises). He was an ancient mythological being on a mission. Cupid had come to Hogwarts and he was sick and tired of oblivious teenagers (and teachers – all billowy robes and stern expression. Phh who do they think they are?). It was time they learned their lesson – no one is immune to love – and armed with magical arrows and The Power of the Gods (ok maybe just one god – a little one) he was just the crazed lunatic to teach them.

Turning a corner and suddenly coming to a screeching (silent) halt in midair, a downright evil expression spread across Cupid's angelic features. Prrrrrrfect (Cupid was also the god of happy cats - who'd a thunk it?). Reaching back between his wings, Cupid drew a single golden arrow (classic. And the pink pompoms added that extra touch of class). Reaching down to his satin boxers, Cupid plucked a giggling heart, spearing it on the end of the arrow. Placing the arrow in his matching golden bow, Cupid drew it slowly back, taking aim before letting it fly with a resounding _Twangangang_. The arrow and heart exploded above the two boys scoffing muffins in the middle of the corridor, showering golden sparks and tiny giggling hearts on their completely oblivious heads.    

Poor unsuspecting victims.

MWUAHAHAHAHAHA  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Crabbe and Goyle sat on the cold stone floor surrounded by an assortment of snack foods. Chocolate and chips and cake, oh my! Both boys contentedly stuffed their faces with various items of unwholesome goodness, communicating their happiness with grunts and sloppy chewing noises. Life was grand . . . And then it happened. Life suddenly got that little bit better. 

Crabbe blinked rapidly for a moment, trying to clear the little stars spinning before his eyes. Heh. That was strange. Glancing over at his comrade, he noticed for what seemed the first time that Goyle had a beautifully muffin shaped head – cute. Heh. That was strange.   

Goyle turned to grin with satisfaction at his partner in crime (Kitchen raiding. It's naughty. Don't do it. Heh. Just kidding) and was hit all at once by a dazzling light. Crabbe's fair hair shone golden in the half-light of the stone corridor, his skin was bright with the radiant glow of happiness, his lips gleaming moist and delicious – tasty, enticing. Tearing his eyes from the temptation of those lips, Goyle gazed into two deep pools of shimmering, luminous blue. Crabbe was staring straight back at him, their eyes locked in a deserted hallway (hmmm). And he was beautiful.

Simultaneously, both boys realised they were staring and looked away uncomfortably. Goyle opened wide and stuffed a whole lamington into his mouth while Crabbe desperately tried to think of something to say into the awkward silence (_now_ its awkward, before it was just silence. Picky, picky). Unfortunately, thinking wasn't really Crabbe's strong suit (you could practically see the little puffs of smoke coming from his ears). 

Finally he mumbled, "Euh, Pass the pumpkin juice, Goyle." (Sheer brilliance!)

Hands shaking a little as he scrambled for the juice, Goyle swallowed before handing it over. "Um. Sure, Sweetie." (*sigh* don't you love the Freudian Slip?)

Blinking confusedly for a moment, Crabbe finally smiled before reaching out to take the bottle from Goyle's hand. "Sweets? Oh yeah, sure – some of them too. Thanks."

What the . . . ? Goyle hid his confusion and grabbed a handful of sweets from the pile next to him, handing them to his beloved . . . wait a sec. Beloved? Oh dear gods what was wrong with him? And. Did he just call Crabbe Sweetie?? (Da Nile ain't just a river in Egypt) One moment Crabbe was his best friend, the next he was his "beloved"? Or  . . . had it really been that sudden? He admired and respected Crabbe, he was always happy when they were together and . . . didn't really know what he would do without him. Was that love? (_Timbeeeerrr! _Oh yeah he's fallen big time. Ain't love grand?)

Crabbe looked at Goyle. Just looked. But _really_ looked for the first time. And he liked what he saw. (oooh yeah that brings the clichés to a level far beyond human tolerance. But still. Aww) Physically, Goyle was strong and broad, masculine and powerful. (*sigh*) But when Crabbe looked into his love's eyes all he saw was kindness. Respect. Admiration. Friendship. . . Love? (Everyone hop on! The clue bus has arrived!) 

Yes. A love that was there for the world to see, reflected in his own eyes. Chest heaving, Crabbe locked eyes with Goyle, whose gaze travelled down to his lips. His heart skipped a beat as Goyle's lips parted, wondering he would say. (can anyone see a bodice a round here? Ahhh Let the ripping begin.) 

"Uh. Crabbe you  . . . um . . . have some sugar just . . .there," Goyle said, bringing his hand up to indicate a spot beside his own lips.

Blushing, Crabbe let his tongue flicker out over suddenly dry lips. Fool. Fool. Fool. Reaching his hand up to swipe away the sugar, Crabbe was shocked to find it caught in Goyle's larger, stronger one. 

"Here," the deep, rough tone sent shivers up his spine, "Let _me _get that." And Crabbe melted into a pair of strong arms, safe and beloved. Forever. 

(Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!)      

Poor us – we've unwittingly stumbled into a bad romance novel.

But hey! I _like_ bad romance novels. *grin* 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

. . A very long time (and 8 ½ serves of chocolate mousse) later . . . 

*grunt*

*squeal*

*wet slurping noises*

A happy little sigh echoed through the stone corridor. "Mmmmmm . . . you taste like chocolate."

Twin moans sounded long and loud. "Mmmmmmm . . . Chocolate."

The two boys looked at each other, identical cheeky smiles spreading across their faces. Standing abruptly, Goyle bowed low to his love who was still sitting on the ground and offered his arm. "Mister Crabbe, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the kitchens?"

Batting his eyelashes coquettishly, Crabbe threaded his arm through Goyle's and rested his head on the taller boy's shoulder. "Always," He vowed with a soft smile.

Awwwww *sniff* how sweet.

 . . . . . . . .?

What? I'm not _that_ insensitive. 

Well . . . ok . . . *sigh* Poor lovesick fools. (There. Happy?) . . . Or maybe it should be –

Poor kitchen elves.

Chocoholics in love are a force to be reckoned with.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The torches fixed to the walls guttered then leapt, spewing sparks and making light and shadow dance wildly on the walls. 

"Two down. So little time, so much to do. Lets get this party started!" 

The sound of malicious giggles filled the corridor, slowly dissipating as the beat of wings faded into the distance.

Poor Snape. Poor McGonagal. _Poor_ innocent students.

They had no idea. *sigh*.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

ahhh that was fun. Oh this is TBC with our next lucky couple . . you cant get rid of me _that_ easily.

A/N – ok I *do not* have a thing for Crabbe, Goyle or Crabbe/Goyle. This pairing just kinda struck me here. Also the characters aren't really that developed in the books, so there's a lot of room to work with them.

Tune in next week boys and girls, same wacky time, same wacky network for  . . . "Cupid Gone Crazy!"  

*cue theme song* Next Time - Snape. McGonagal. Snape _and _McGonagal. Destiny? Joke? Some fabulous mixture of the two? You decide.

!!!!! 


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